Disclaimer: I really thought I could get away with no songs for a while, it was just getting annoying but as it's a dance I didn't think it would hurt that much and it is one of my favourite songs ever; The Red Strokes by Garth Brooks.

Author's Notes 1: I don't know how long it's been since I updated, but I do know it's been a while since I felt particularly "into" this story. I will admit it; I've been kinda lazy with this and then I kept getting ideas for Stargate SG1 fictions lol, I think right now I'm avoiding the ever-growing mountain of homework I have to do for Monday :) I always seem to have work to do /rolls eyes/ oh well!

Obviously I'm not gonna do every day of the pregnancy and it just gets boring if I keep saying how much time has past so it just sorta happens? This note is unnecessary I guess but /shrugs/ I have no idea when Brennan's birthday is so I'm just throwing it in at random because it seems like a nice touch.

Anyone here a fan of Hodgins/Angela? Well I think they kinda sweet, I probs won't take it anywhere but there's a cute little scene where she's… hang on, read the damn thing and find out!

Warning: Strong language, non-consensual sex

Italics are either the letter (divided from the rest of the text), the past or song lyrics :)

Chapter 8: Passion in Death

Life throws battles at ya, ya either fight or ya fly, ya make ya voice heard over the thousands of others that are screamin' at ya to shut up. But ya can only fight so hard before there's nothin' left in ya to save, before ya are to tired, to exhausted and in too much pain to keep goin'.


Miley paused, her pen poised over the paper as tears slipped from her chin and caused the ink of the letter to run. Sniffing she swiped at her eyes and put the pen down. Se felt both numb and in agony at the same time, her heart aching in her chest and her ribs protesting with every breath she took, her entire body ached as she wrote, not caring that she was writing how she spoke, her mother would understand it. She just didn't have the energy to worry about it anymore; she could barely move.

"Ya stupid bitch! Can't ya do nothing right? You're nothing but a street whore!" the deep voice thundered through the house followed by a desperate shriek of terror from the woman the abuse was hurled at.

"Ya gotta understand! I dinna mean it! I dinna mean it!" she begged and cried out as another blow rained down on her.

"Ya don' know whatcha did wrong? You let him touch you! You let the mother-fucker touch you! No one touches what's mine bitch! No one!"

She shook her head, the dark curls falling around her chestnut skin as she attempted to ignore the voices crying out in her head, the voices of herself and her partner merely hours before hand.


Mamma you was right, Jim's not worth nothin', I wanna leave so bad but daddy said I couldn' come back an' … an'… mamma he hurts me so bad but I love him mamma! I love him! He was so sweet mamma, he said he lov'd me, I don't understan' what's goin' on no more, he went out a coupla months ago and came back all strange nigh on a week later! It's like he's not Jim no more and when I as' 'bout it he just yells more.


She curled further in on herself, screaming in agony as she heard, rather than felt another rib crack her breathing was becoming more and more laboured but she daren't lift her head for fear he might strike that too.

"Baby, I'm so sorry!" she wailed "let me make it up to ya baby, please!"

"Make it up to me?" he sneered "Mils, somethin's already up," he grabbed at her arms and hoisted her to her feet, his voice dangerously low

"Jim honey, please" she needed her inhaler and she needed it badly, she could see it on the nightstand by the phone if only he would – she hurled onto the bed.

She could feel her chest tightening, she couldn't breathe out and she fought back tears of fear as he unbuckled his belt and threw it aside. Her eyes widening in terror she scrambled up the bed towards the headboard "Jim don't, you don't know what ya doin'!" she gasped, surely he could hear her struggles? Surely he loved her enough to … to…

He growled and pulled her by the ankle down the bed so she was flat on her back "this'll teach ya to flirt ya little-" he straddled her legs and pinned her arms above her head with one hand whilst with the other he lifted her half ridden up skirt…

Tears fell harder and once more her chest tightened feeling the cold hard plastic of her inhaler in her left hand she lifted one fatigued arm and held the device to her mouth, pumping it once to get the medication to her lungs. Did she even want to breathe anymore?

Panting heavily as he unbuttoned his jeans and tugged her panties down to her knees; he was oblivious to his partner's screams of pain and fear.

Ignoring every word she spoke until one last-ditch attempt to save herself she could not understand at that point why she had not spoken sooner she howled at the top of her lungs "rape!" and he stopped. Staring down at his victim frozen in terror, pale and covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the lamplight. Within seconds he had redressed himself and hurtled out of the door.


Ah know ah shoulda said somethin' sooner mamma but I lov'd 'im, I lov'd 'im so much I don't know what to do! Please mamma, help me, I still love you and daddy and li'l Liam, I dinna mean to run out on ya I just though' ya'd see but I was wrong! I was wrong!


"Sweetcheeks?" a whisper from the doorway and she jumped.

Miley didn't speak, too afraid too as her… attacker, not her lover anymore, her attacker approached her with all the gentleness she had first known him to have, he sat next to her on the bed, drawing her to his chest and rubbing her tense back with one large palm. Despite herself she could feel her body melting against his, she did not care these were the hands of an attempted rapist and the culprits that caused the cuts, bruises and abrasions she had been forced to hide for months.

His hands paused and she tensed once more "what's this?" his voice cold and detached once more and her eyes snapped out of their reverie, her heart pounding in her ears as his eyes scanned the letter "ya plannin' on leavin'?"

She pulled away, choking on tears "n-no,"

"Ya was, you lyin' little bitch!" he deftly shredded the letter and through it into the air, relishing in the tears that overflowed.

"Jimmy, you been scarin' me so much lately, baby you nearly--" she was cut off as a large hand struck her across the face, the radiating sting moving from her cheek to the rest of her face.

"Stupid little whore, ya think I can't read bitch? Is that what ya think? Ya ain't going nowhere ya filthy slut,"

Ignoring the protestations of her strained and over-abused body she scrambled from the bed, trying her best to keep the terror from her face as she felt a stabbing pain in her chest and her tremors became more obvious.

Backing against the wall she mouthed pleas of reprieve to little success, salty tears stinging the deep cut on her left cheek as she wept.

"Get back here slut!" his voice loud and dangerous.

God why won't anyone hear? Why, why did she move in with him? Why did she leave the comfort and warmth of her parent's house in the city? Why move all the way out here… to this squalor?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," her chants like a mantra and barely audible as she shook her head, desperately pressing herself further into the wall.

He snatched up her wrist and hauled her away from the wall, and dropping her carelessly onto the bed, dark spots danced before her eyes and she was screaming, and crying, there was pain, so much pain but she couldn't stop him. Then there was only darkness.


Temperance frowned and turned the black dress Angela had talked her into buying complimenting her figure, enunciating every curve and shimmering with every movement. Unfortunately, these 'curves' it highlighted? Also included the now not-so-discreet one that was her stomach.

"Bones," Booth peeked his head into the bedroom "you nearly ready?"

"Hmm?" she looked over her shoulder at him absently then back at the mirror, smoothing one hand meticulously over her 'bump' and glancing back at her reflection "almost,"

Booth grinned, enthralled by the natural highlights in Temperance's hair shift and sparkle in the light, the carefully positioned curls moving just a fraction with every breath she took "you look fine Bones,"

Her head snapped round and he rephrased it "you look beautiful," he said "now let's go?"


Temperance shivered despite the thick heat of the nightclub, the flashing lights and pounding music making the room seem that much smaller. Sat at the booth in the corner, a bottle of lemonade in front of her, accompanied by Jack's beer, Angela's tequila and Booth's Pepsi. She smiled, he'd casually shrugged of the idea of any alcohol, everyone seeing through the 'really, I'm not in the mood for it tonight' as a not-so-discreet way of joining her in the 'no alcohol' idea.

It was getting easier. A year ago she would have laughed at the idea, her and Seeley Booth? Her pregnant by Seeley Booth? It was absurd, an insane idea lived out only dreams and fantasies but now it was real, it was happening and she couldn't be more content.

The world is full of junkies and murderers, rapists, thieves, men who beat their wives and vice versa, sadists, anarchists, those who had the nerve to call themselves artists that revelled in torture and pain and those who just simply loved to see the blood and hear the screams. She'd never wanted children, another person for someone to hurt, for her to loose but this feeling… it was phenomenal.

"Hey," Angela was panting delicately for air as she took her seat next to Temperance who was currently smirking as Jack was blown off by yet another woman "come and dance," the goofy smile on her face a tell-tale sign that she was already tipsy.

She shook her head "I'd really rather-" too late, her hand was already clamped tightly into the young woman's hand and she was being tugged towards the dance floor.

The flashing lights slowed their up beat frantic sparking and plain white lights illuminated the dance floor in a gentle glow. Fitting into the beat of a song, far softer than the one before, the dulcet tones of the kareoke singer on stage filling the heavy air and suddenly she was very aware of every body in the room.

It took her far to long, she believed, to find that Angela was no where to be seen and she was pressed against a firm body, held there by muscled but not overpowering arms.

"Hey," he was breathless and a light sheen of sweat covered his body, dark eyes bright and focussed only on her, a brilliant smile one his face.

Moonlight on canvas, midnight and wine,

Two shadows starting to softly combine,

The picture they're painting,

Is one of the heart,

And to those who have seen it,

It's a true work of art,

"Hey," she replied, unable to say much else, transfixed by the almost ethereal glow that surrounded him from the lights, she was aware that she was turning in slow circles and oddly unaware of where she ended and he began.

The air heavy with dry ice, which strangely did not dim the burning temperatures or lust that, laced it at measures that both alarmed her and blanketed her in a proverbial veil of protection.

"Some couple over there requested it,"

It took her a moment to realise that he was talking then what he was talking about, then that she had asked a question at all "the song," she muttered, more to herself than to him, he laughed anyway.

"Yeah Bones," he pressed her closer to him, resting his chin atop her head "the song,"

Oh, the red strokes,

Passions uncaged,

Thundering moments of tenderness rage,

Oh, the red strokes,

Tempered and strong,

Burning the night like the dawn,

Giving in too temptation she closed her eyes and relaxed against him, allowing him to take complete control and sway them both to the beat of the music. The taps of heels on the parquet floor dull and only audible when listened for.

Angela watched from the booth she and Jack and taken up 'guard' of when Temperance had been 'handed over' to Booth. Sipping her fifth drink of the night once Jack had given it to her, each drink had been different, and each one just as welcomed as the last.

Dropping the change into his pocket Jack took his seat next to her, beer in hand. She smiled to herself, subconsciously leaning into her co-worker's personal space as she slipped down in her seat.

Steam on the window, salt in a kiss,

Two hearts have never pounded like this,

Inspired by a vision,

That they can't command,

Erasing the borders,

With each brush of a hand,

Jack watched the couple in the centre of the dance floor with a fascination he found to be misplaced. He liked to believe that he didn't intervene in their lives, he was the paranoid pessimist who always had an opinion to voice, but they… they were unique.

Observing office romances weren't really his idea of a good night but as usual his eyes were drawn to something other than what he wished they were.

Oh, the red strokes,

Passions uncaged,

Thundering moments of tenderness rage,

Oh, the red strokes,

Tempered and strong,

Burning the night like the dawn,

Their movements fluid and without fault. It was like something from one of those chick flicks he'd ended up watching whenever Angela chose something for her random decisions that they should have a 'movie night.' But even he could feel the passion in the room, which washed over everyone with fearless abandon, blanketing them in a veil of comfortable darkness.

A sudden light weight on his shoulder had him jerking his head round, ready to lash out and whatever it was, a smile attempted to creep onto his lips but he held it back as he recognised the head of dark curls resting there.

Oh, the blues will be blue and the jealousies green,

But when love picks its shade it demands to be seen,

"Angela?" he tried when he got his voice back, his voice barely a whisper for fear he would disturb her.

Although awake Angela remained silent, a deep sigh his only reply but more than enough to sate him, extricating his arm from beneath her he lay it across the back of the couch behind her and she settled more comfortably against him.

He was certain she was only peripherally, if that, aware of what she was doing. He shot Zack a threatening look when he took seat opposite the duo and raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to query their positions. Zack obediently took heed of the silent warning.

Oh, the red strokes,

Passions uncaged,

Thundering moments of tenderness rage,

Oh, the red strokes,

Fearlessly drawn,

Burning the night like the dawn,

"Look," Booth breathed into Temperance's ear, his breath tickling her neck.

Her eyes flickered open and saw what he was also viewing, that smile still present with equal intensity to what it had been since before she had closed her eyes "I think Angela's drunk," she mused, an edge of laughter to her voice.

"Hodgins seems okay with it," he echoed her mirth, smirking as Jack glowered at Zack who was trying his best to avert his gaze from both of the couples in the room.

He was not succeeding as he seemed to be finding it rather hard to get his head around the fact that not only had Jack moved his arm so it rested around Angela's shoulders but she was also letting him without a word of complaint.

The solace they had both found was rudely interrupted by the chiming of Booth's cell phone, pulling away from her he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

"Booth?" the agitation at the interruption blatantly obvious "it's for you," he held the phone out to his dance partner who took it, a confused expression on her face.

"Brennan,"

"I'm sorry to call you – where are you?" his voce incredulous as he cut himself off to ask the question.

"At a club downtown, what's wrong?"

"Why on earth are you – oh," he realised "happy birthday Doctor Brennan,"

She bit back a smile "thank you, now what's wrong?"

"Another set of remains has been found, a house near the wharf side in Wilmington, they were sent in a couple of hours ago, they had the anthropologist at the local university take a look before it was declared official FBI business,"

Temperance felt a surge of annoyance quell up, as competent as she was sure the good doctor was it was never the same working with second hand evidence.

"Doctor Tanashiko took good care Doctor Brennan, she's very good at her job and immediately recommended you when she recognised the oddity of the cases – she was the reason the FBI were called initially. That and the fact that the prime suspect was discovered dead in the next room although she thinks his was a suicide" he paused "she insisted she packed and sampled everything necessary herself,"

Oh, the red strokes,

Passions uncaged,

Thundering moments of tenderness rage,

Oh, the red strokes,

Fearlessly drawn,

Burning the night like the dawn,

"Is she still in Carolina?" she could feel herself fighting the subconscious urge to sway to the last few beats of the song.

"She brought the remains in herself Doctor Brennan, she was most insistent,"

Temperance felt the annoyance fade slightly, at least she could confer with someone who had not only seen the evidence first hand but knew what too look for and what to talk about. It wasn't preferable but it was better than nothing "I'm on my way," and she flipped the phone shut and handed it back to its owner who pocketed it deftly.

"What's up?"

Steam on the window, salt in a kiss,

Two hearts have never pounded like this,

"New case," she moved from the dance floor and back to the booth, pulling on her coat and picking up her bag she left the club without a word of explanation to anyone, Booth on her heels.

Author's Notes: Please review!